


Weight of the World

by AlkexPeppers



Category: DBH - Fandom, Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Also tigger warning: violence, Androids don't exist, Both cigarettes and weed, Cole's alive, Connor Smokes, Connor and Nines are twins, Connor gets high, For case purposes, Hank's happy cause he deserves it, Human Connor, Human RK900, LEDs are an optional implant, LEDs are bascially head-planted phones, M/M, Original characters used, Prepare for a case, So Hank isn't an alcoholic, So trigger warning: Blood, There's A LOT of Heavy Rain references, There's gonna be murder, blowjob, connor has depression, eventual full sex, gay boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-06-30
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:24:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18514783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlkexPeppers/pseuds/AlkexPeppers
Summary: " Connor had seen a lot of horrible, horrible things, but nothing prepared him for the sight and smell of seeing a dead body in person. It was different than seeing it on a screen. It was far more real. "





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The title is the working title. It might change later.

_December 02, 2038 - 4:14:32am_

Connor had seen a lot of horrible, horrible things, but nothing prepared him for the sight and smell of seeing a dead body in person. It was different than seeing it on a screen. It was far more _real_. He could feel his stomach turning, his heart pounding, a cold and clammy feeling creeping up his neck. He needed to go outside.

Stepping into the freezing night air was a nice way to calm his nerves and clear his head. He could watch his breath rise in gentle clouds, illuminated by the several flashing lights of police cars. It helped him get it off his mind for the moment. Fortunately, the detective he was supposed to be working with hadn’t shown up yet. He was able to have a minute to himself, but that minute turned into fifteen before he was able to talk himself into heading back inside. He sucked in a breath, then strode with false confidence toward the body.

With a simple hand gesture, the world around him drained of all color(externally, his NIC, or Neural Implant Communicator, spun yellow), save for the points of evidence being red. One look at the girl’s face told him everything he needed to know about the victim. Her name was Casey Castellanos, she was twenty-three and was currently training as a drug counselor. She was in the police database for a recent arrest on drug charges.

Civilian NICs didn’t do this sort of thing and were more commonly known by the name LED. LEDs were a neural implant that a lot of people had opted to get these days. It was a phone, for the most part. It allowed people to make calls and send texts through a simulated screen that appeared on the user’s hand of choice. It also allowed them to play games and be on social media, all seen through a connection to the optics. The light on the device was used as an indication of what a person may be doing. White for phone use and yellow when they were busy with other things.

Connor had an upgraded version specifically for law enforcement. This allowed him to have access to police databases, easily find and record evidence, and even break samples down in real time simply by looking at them. It was an upgraded and more polished version of the old Added Reality Interface, ARI, system that had been experimented with in the past.

Past identifying the victim, Connor found that Casey had her throat slit. It was messy. Blood had splashed from it. It was straight across, a knife had done it. She was clutching a bag of red ice in her hand. There were nothing else substantial on her.

He stepped away from the body, taking a good look around the small studio apartment. No weapon on the floor and no knives missing from the kitchen. The killer brought one with them, then took it when they left. They were careful. There were no traces left behind. Any hair or fingerprints Connor found were all the victim's. There was no sign of forced entry, meaning Casey knew her attacker. That was very common in murder cases and made it easy for them to eventually shrink their list. He’d have to look over her social media and find out who she’d been calling or texting.

That was all the evidence he could collect. He closed a fist and the evidence gather program closed, leaving him blinking as he got his eyes to adjust to colors again, even if dulled from the darkness of outside. He was done here and Detective Anderson still hadn’t shown up. Connor assumed he wasn’t going to, so there was no point in wasting his time on waiting. He left the scene.

_December 02, 2038 - 6:24:12am_

The station was starting to bustle with the day shift. Connor hadn’t been formally introduced to the building yet. He wasn’t even supposed to fully transfer over until eight this morning, so he had a little bit of time to look around, get familiar.

He found Lieutenant Anderson’s desk. There was an empty one across from it that he could only assume was supposed to be his. The plaque on it was blank. He stood there for a moment, debating rather he wanted to start working, snoop through Hank’s things, or keep looking around. It was nearly time that the detective should show up. He elected to get coffee for Hank with the hopes that he’d start off their work relationship right.

Connor found the break room easily. There were a few cops in it, all getting coffee to wake up from the early start of the day. He barely had time to step into the large room before he was- harshly -shoulder checked. His mind barely processed that before he felt the stinging heat of a fresh coffee having been poured all down the front of his shirt. He hissed and gripped it to pull the fabric off of touching his skin.

When he lifted his eyes to the culprit, his LED was very happy to tell him the man standing in front of him with a shit-eating grin was Detective Gavin Reed.

“You should learn to watch your step, blinky motherfucker.”

Connor wasn’t willing to start a fight on his first day here. He didn’t need any strikes yet, so he met the comment with only a glare. Gavin apparently didn’t like that. His smile fell and it seemed like he had to use a lot of brain power to think of something else to say. In the end, he just lifted a hand and poked the LED on Connor’s temple. Connor stood his ground.

“It’s red. Feeling threatened?”

“No. It’s red because I’m annoyed.”

“What was that, shithead? Got a problem?”

“Enough Gavin,” Connor hadn’t noticed her, but there was a woman next to the detective. A scan of her told Connor her name was Tina Chen, “You’re gonna have to make me another coffee for that.”

Gavin begrudgingly gave up his fight, sending Connor one last glare before he walked away. Tina gave him an apologetic look and followed. With a sigh, he looked down at himself. Covered. He needed to handle this before it became impossible to get out. Thankfully, when he walked into the bathroom, it was empty.

It was tedious trying to get his shirt rinsed before the coffee dried. The sinks didn’t stay running. He had to consistently wave a hand under the motion sensor, then splash the water onto himself. It was so, so annoying and he had to remind himself not to head back out and punch Gavin right in that smug face of his. He kept repeating that couldn’t afford a citation on his first day.

The stains were being stubborn. They didn’t want to come out. No matter how much water he splashed and scrubbed into the delicate fabric of his shirt, it just didn’t seem to be working and he didn’t have one of those cleaning pens with him- didn’t even own one, actually. All he was managing to do was soak himself. It wasn’t going to dry by the time he got back out to the bullpen. He was going to look like a joke.

He was focused, so much so that he didn’t hear the door open until someone talked.

“Run in with Gavin?” the guy sounded amused and Connor looked up into the mirror to see just who it was.

One of the officers. Chris was on his name tag.

“Is he always so intolerable?”

Chris laughed, “Yeah, for the most part he is. He always hazes the rookies. He’ll settle down eventually. Just try not to get yourself in trouble because of it.”

“Easier said than done,” Connor grumbled. He was obviously mad.

Chris disappeared into one of the stalls.

He was so busy with this he didn’t even notice the red spilling from his nose until it hit his shirt. Shit. He was left scrambling to get to the paper towel dispenser, tugging out a good amount to press to his bleeding nose as he desperately covered the spot with water to get the blood out. His LED was blinking a rapid red, telling him that something was wrong.

Somehow, miraculously, Connor managed to actually get both stains off his shirt while dealing with the nose bleed. His shirt was still soaked when everything had been handled and he had to wash his face to get all the blood off. It was only then that had could watch his LED turn back to blue.

Despite the wet of his poor shirt, Connor left the bathroom with the intention of just heading to his desk to start working, but as he stepped out into the bullpen, he noticed a man at the lieutenants desk. Obviously, he had to be the lieutenant.

“Lieutenant Anderson?” Connor was slow as he stepped closer to the desk, looking over the man’s face. He was older, but well groomed despite his longer hair. He looked tired.

The detective looked at him, gave him a once over, looked entirely unimpressed, then returned his attention to his terminal, “You’re wet.”

Connor looked down at himself, as if he didn’t remember. It was mostly out of embarrassment, “Yes, I had a run in with Detective Reed. He spilled coffee on me.”

“Yeah, he’s an asshole.”

“So I’ve noticed,” a pause, then Connor changed the subject, “My name is Connor. I’m your shadow.”

Hank paused again to look at him properly, “You’re the transfer? From computer forensics?”

“That’s correct.”

“What made you want to work in homicide?”

Connor frowned lightly, “I spent several years working on a computer screen, helping gain evidence through online profiling, but I wanted to-”

“To actually catch the guy. Make a difference.” Hank had this amused smile on his face.

“Yes.”

“It’s not all the glory you think it is. You put one away and a dozen more pop up.”

“But at least one is off the streets.”

Hank gave a huff of a laugh, a quiet noise that almost seemed condescending, “You’re fresh. You haven’t had the time to get tired of it yet.”

Connor didn’t dignify that with a response. He moved the conversation to more important things.

“You weren’t at the crime scene this morning,” He earned a grunt from that, so he kept talking, “Can I ask why you didn’t come?”

“No, you cannot. Mind your own damn business.”

Oh. Connor didn’t know what to do for a good moment, knowing he shouldn’t say anything more, but genuinely not knowing how to handle his own limbs anymore.

“You gonna just stand there forever?”

“No, I-” he was too quick to answer and was left blinking before he could get the task of sitting at his desk in his mind, “I’m going to go to my desk,” and with that, he scurried over to his desk, taking a seat in a position that he could hide behind his terminal.

Connor pulled up the evidence and information from the murder scene this morning. In his vision, they looked like digital folders, things he could open. He flipped open the folder with the information on the victim. Her ID picture was the only one they had from when she was living, but they had important information on who she was. All he needed was her name, really.

“What the hell are you doin’?”

He was pulled from his task and closed the HUB of his LED too quickly. He was left with a headache from it. Connor often forgot that other people couldn’t see was he was able to.

“I’m using my NIC to access information on the victim.”

“Huh,” Hank seemed actually intrigued, “They can do that?”

“Mine can. I have an upgraded one. A demo for police work.”

“So what, you can just bring up anything you want?”

“Not anything. I still have some restrictions, but I can access records from the police database and identify people based on facial recognition and social media records.”

“Sounds sketchy.”

Connor didn’t know how to reply to that. He couldn’t exactly dispute it. There were some known issues with his LED, but he’d signed a waiver of silence when he’d gotten the upgrade, so he went silent.

 

_December 02, 2038 - 11:15:26am_

Lieutenant Anderson went on a lunch break, leaving the office to go to some food stand. Connor didn’t catch what the name of it was. He didn’t join him. Instead, he walked out of the station and snuck into an alley beside the building where he pulled a pack of cigarettes out. These should’ve been banned a long time ago for how unsafe they were, but so many fought against it that it never happened. Connor only smoked on stressful days. Today, so far, counted. He lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply.

He used to smoke a lot more often, during the harder cases when he was in forensics. Things like pedophiles, when he would have to crack open their locked computer files. He’d seen a lot of things he could never forget. Disturbing things that made his stomach turn. Even now, as he was lost in thought, he could feel his stomach churning, threatening making him get rid of its contents- or rather, try to get rid of stomach acid. He took another long drag of the cigarette, barely managing to suppress a shudder.

Connor didn’t finish the cigarette. He’d barely smoked any of it before he knelt down to put it out against the ground. He slipped it back into the pack and hid the pack once again in his jacket pocket, then went back inside.

The first thing he did was go to the break room. Luckly, Reed wasn’t there this time- Connor had overheard him and Tina saying they were going to lunch together- so he’d be able to enjoy the break room this time. He was pretty happy to see his favorite energy drink in one of the vending machines. Honestly, it _looked_ unhealthy. A bright blue liquid in a clear bottle with just the name Thirium printed on it. He shouldn’t be putting it in his body, but it certainly kept him nice and focused. That was all he needed. It would fulfil his every want, right now. He took the bottle and went back to his desk.

Connor opened the files of the scene again. There was really nothing to go on. No prints, no hair, no shoe prints. Not even a forced entry. Casey had let her attacker in. She’d trusted them, or at least felt the need to invite them in. She was a known drug addict, even had a bag of red ice with her. Their perp was either a family member or perhaps her dealer.

He closed the file and moved on to her social media. She hadn’t made any posts on her feeds for a few weeks, but she’d been tagged in work related posts and funny little things her friends wanted to share with her. The friends. Connor looked them all up, getting all their information and saved them to a database in his LED. She didn’t have any messages.

He’d found out that her phone had been hard reset when they’d found it. Probably by the attacker. Connor needed her phone records. He wrote a quick email to the company her type of phone went through, asking to gain access for a case. He could only hope for their cooperation, but it may still take a while for them to get back to him. All he could do was wait.

He closed everything out and finally opened the energy drink he’d gotten. As he was taking a good drink of the stuff, Hank came back from his lunch break, immediately taking a seat at his desk with a sigh. Connor set the drink down to put his focus on the lieutenant.

“I think we should get in contact with her friends.”

Hank hadn’t really talked to him today. Just a few short inputs on the case or answers to small talk that Connor had initiated. He didn’t seem friendly or maybe he just didn’t want a partner. Connor couldn’t tell.

“That would usually be a good step, yeah. But her phone had been wiped clean when we got it.”

“Yes, I requested those records, but in the meantime, I’ve accessed her social media. I have the names and addresses of the friends who’d tagged her in things.” People who still cared about her enough to try and talk to her through posts.

Lieutenant Anderson almost seemed impressed. He nodded, “Alright, fine. But we’re taking my car, got it?”

“Understood.”

 

_December 02, 2038 - 12:31:45pm_

Connor had never been in a non-automatic vehicle. He knew there were still some around, but the mast majority around the country were cars that drove themselves. They were energy saving and environmentally friendly. Hank’s car was not. It was old and Connor could practically see the damage to the ecosystem as he watched the smoke spout from the exhaust. He didn’t like it, but chose not to say anything.

The first of Casey’s friends was a woman named Elizabeth Baker. She lived in a small apartment near the Wayne State College where she attended. They managed to catch her between classes when they arrived. She let them in and Connor let the lieutenant take over.

“My name’s Hank and this is my partner Connor,” he started with, “We’re really sorry for your loss.”

Elizabeth seemed genuinely upset, “Thanks. I just can’t believe she’s gone, you know? We’ve been friends for years.”

“Have you two talked recently?”

“Uh, no. Not for a few weeks, now. She sorta just dropped off the radar.”

That might mean she’d gotten seriously involved in her drug problem.

Hank continued the questions, “What kinda person was she?”

“She was really sweet. Really wanted to help people better themselves. Do you- do you think that maybe someone she was trying to help got her in danger?”

“There’s a few theories we’re working on right now.”

“So in other words, you’ve got nothing?”

That forced some silence for a good moment, a heavy atmosphere suddenly growing. They should probably hurry this up.

Connor decided it was his turn, “Did she mention anyone? From her group or maybe a new friend?”

Elizabeth was quiet as she thought, then shook her head, “No. Not that I can remember. But like I said, we hadn’t talked in a few weeks.”

“We’ll stop pestering you,” Hank was already moving toward the door, “Thanks for putting up with us. C’mon, Connor.”

The rest of her friends were similar. None of them had talked to her recently and none of them even knew she’d been on drugs when she died. No leads. It was frustrating to have nothing. Dead end after dead end.

“Hey,” they were on their way back to the station, and Hank had apparently noticed his gloomy attitude, “Don’t worry ‘bout it, alright? Most of this job is picking at dead ends just to prove they’re dead ends. A lot of the victims’ friends usually don’t know anything. People keep to themselves. If they don’t want someone to know something, then that person doesn’t know jack shit. It’s just part of the job.”

“We have _nothing_ , though,” Connor pointed out.

“Okay, yeah. That’s true. But we’ll find something eventually.”

“What if another body is found before we can find who did it?”

“That’s unlikely. It’s not often that there’s a serial killer.”

Connor knew that. There were only 150 serial murders in 15,000 murders. But there was something in his chest telling him that this would be one of those 150. He went silent out of frustration.

“You wanna grab a beer after work, to get that stick outta your ass?”

It was a nice offer, but Connor would have to decline, “I don’t drink.”

“Pansy,” Hank actually had a bit of a playful smile on his lips. It made Connor’s own curl into a smile.

This conversation was the first time Hank had actually fully spoken to him and it wasn’t even grumpy. It was genuine conversation. Maybe the lieutenant wasn’t as unfriendly as Connor originally thought.

 

_December 02, 2038 - 6:47pm_

Connor had stayed at the station until Captain Fowler had kicked him out, even after Hank had left. He’d spent the last several hours mulling over evidence and any report he could find on the victim, but he still had nothing. He nearly had a migraine at this point and had downed several headache pills as soon as he’d stepped into his apartment. He knew he needed to get his mind off the case. While he was at home, at least.

He tried watching TV. But as soon as he turned it on, the news was talking about Casey. So instead of changing the channel, he just turned it right back off. He went looking through his cabinets and fridge, just looking and not grabbing anything. Then, he went and fed his lonely little hamster- Gizmo. His apartment only allowed caged animals, otherwise he’d have a dog.

In the end, he just laid down for bed. After getting out of the uncomfortable clothes he was wearing, of course. Instead, he was in his favorite hoodie and some sweatpants. He burrowed himself under his blanket, using his LED to  scroll through his feeds to keep his mind occupied for as long as it would work. There was nothing interesting going on, but he got to watch a few short videos like cake decorating. He was just about to close out and try to sleep when he got a text. It was from his brother.

_‘Did you eat today, Connor?’_

Connor read through the text a few times, decided he didn’t want to deal with it, then closed the text out with a sigh and curled into himself, trying to force himself to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of footsteps echoed behind him, bouncing off walls he couldn’t see. His chest burned and his breath came out in fast pants. He felt cold and hot. It made his skin sting. He was slammed against a brick wall. He tried to scream, but it was broken and too quiet, unable to be heard by anyone. Cynical laughter hit his ears. The cold metal of a knife pressed lightly against his throat.  

“No, no, please, _no_ -!”

 

Connor threw himself up, panting with a cold sweat on his brow. He’d woken himself up with a scream. His heart pounded and he had to look around to make sure he was alone before he could properly breathe again, taking deep, shaky breaths. He could feel a lump in throat, emotion threatening to well up in his eyes. He drew in his knees, hugging them to his chest. He was alone, but he couldn’t tell if that was a relief or if it made this worse.

He took a long time to properly calm himself and keep from crying. It was going to be a bad day, then, wasn’t it? When he’d finally gotten his heart rate back to normal and shoved all harsh feelings back into that little bottle in his mind, he checked his internal clock.

_December 03, 2038 - 2:12:02am_

Great. At least he went to bed early and managed to get a good seven hours in. The longest he’d slept in a night for a while. Yesterday must’ve made his brain tired for once.

Connor pushed himself out of bed and made his way out to the kitchen. He started making a pot of coffee. While that started to brew, he got into his cabinets and pulled out the little jar with a very important stash.

It wasn’t illegal to smoke weed anymore, anywhere in the world. He just kept it hidden so he wouldn’t always want to be high when he was going to work. He really only smoked on nights like this, when he’d had a nightmare or when he was super stressed. It took the edge off, made him feel better.

He already had a couple blunts rolled, so he took one and found one of his lighters before settling himself on his couch. He lit it and let himself fall into a nice world of blissful unawareness. He never got _too_ high. Just enough to make it harder to focus on the bad things. It eased the anxiety in his chest.

Connor didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on his couch, staring at a blank TV when he got a call. He’d finished the blunt, but he couldn’t even remember doing that. He felt nice. The call, or so his LED said, was from Chris Miller.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hey, Connor? It’s, uh, it’s Chris. There’s been another murder, similar to the last one. Fowler officially put you and Hank on the case, but I couldn’t get ahold of him to let him know, so-”

Another murder? It had only been a day since the last one. The perp was working fast. That was dangerous.

“Right, okay. Thank you. I’ll find him and we’ll be there soon,” and with that, he closed out the call.

Shit. Connor wasn’t exactly good for a crime scene. Maybe he’d sober up before they actually got there. Oh, wait. He had coffee he could drink to help that along. He first got dressed properly, then made a cup of coffee in a travel mug, and finally went out to his car. He easily got Hank’s address and put it into his GPS.

When he arrived, he was still pretty out of it. He hadn’t taken a single sip of his coffee like he planned. He’d just put it in the cup holder and left it. It was abandoned as he stepped out of the car and made his way up to the door of the house. He rang the doorbell, waited and when he got no answer, he rang it again for a longer period of time.

This time, he got an answer. But it wasn’t who he was expecting it to be. It was a boy. Connor scanned his face. Cole Anderson. Oh, this was Hank’s son. He was nine, probably obsessed with games like Connor had been at his age. So it made sense he’d be awake this late, especially on a Friday. Probably without his father’s permission.

“Are you one of the cops my dad knows?” Cole seemed cautious, like he’d slam and lock the door if Connor looked at him wrong.

Connor tried to play it carefully. He nodded, “Yes. I’m currently your father’s partner. My name is Connor.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ve gotta wake him up, but do you wanna come inside?”

Connor nod, “Yes, please.”

Cole seemed like a very trusting kid. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. He stepped out of the way and Connor walked into the house. It was a cute place. Obviously lived in. Connor actually really liked it. He watched Cole disappear down a hallway and he took the time to fully look around. There were a few things saying what kind of person Hank was. There were vinyls of jazz music and a sports channel still playing on the tv. He dared to look down the hall. Three doors. Must be a two bedroom house, then. He turned back to the living room and that’s when he noticed the large dog sleeping in the corner of the room, near a desk.

Connor didn’t hesitate as he walked over to the dog and knelt down beside it to pet it properly. The dog stirred and lifted its head, so Connor to the opportunity to look at its nametag. Sumo. What a good boy.

“Connor. What the hell are you doing?” Hank’s voice probably should have startled him, but Connor was still a little high, so all he could do was keep petting Sumo. His fur was soft.

“I’m petting your dog,” was his response.

“No, I mean-” Hank sounded frustrated, “What are you doing _here_ , at my house. At three in the fucking morning.”

“Oh,” right, Connor was here for a reason. He forced himself to stop petting Sumo and pushed himself up, turning to Hank, “There’s been another murder.”

“Jesus, already? Serial murders aren’t common, let alone daily ones,” he paused to let out a sigh, “Fine. Lemme just make some calls and get someone to watch Cole.”

Oh yeah, Hank had a son. Connor had seen that son when he first showed up. He’d only worked with the lieutenant for a day, so of course he hadn’t known about the child. Still, there was something in him that was a little upset about the lack of information into Hank’s life. He wanted them to have a conversation about their lives.

 

_December 03, 2038 - 3:45:32am_

Hank had enlisted the help from a detective named Ben Collins, who seemed to happily accept the task of watching over Cole for a few hours. Connor had seen him at the station yesterday, but hadn’t spoken to him. He was a nice guy, though. He’d greeted Connor like an old friend and like it was normal for Connor to be at the lieutenant’s house in the middle of the night.

Connor had the time to sober up a bit more on the drive from Hank’s home to the crime scene. He was a bit more focused, now and was able to keep his attention on the task at hand rather than getting distracted by anything and everything around. He’d be able to properly record evidence, now.

This scene was in a small studio apartment in a several storied building that felt like it was going to collapse at any moment. Connor had managed to pull up the information on the landlord and learned that there weren’t many residents in this building. Only about five of the fifteen apartment rooms were rented out. The one they were going to was rented out by a man named Michael Hunt.

At last night’s murder, the smell of the dead body had been the most prominent thing, but today, it was the overwhelming smell of blood. A disgusting metallic scent that made Connor freeze in his steps. No. He wasn’t going to let himself walk out of this one for any amount of time, not like he had with last night’s. This time, he was with the lieutenant. He needed to impress him and show that he was a good detective.

There was a reason it smelled so much blood and that was because this scene was a lot more messy than the first one had been. It wasn’t like the last one at all. It seemed completely unplanned. But the victim was a drug user and had been murdered with a knife. That was similar enough to make them believe it was the same attacker.

“Hey, Connor.”

Connor hadn’t realized he was still in the doorway to the apartment until Hank’s voice hit his ears. It was loud and sounded annoyed, like he’d been talking and realized Connor wasn’t listening. Connor didn’t mean to not listen. The lieutenant looked at him. Even his expression showed distaste, but that melted when he actually saw Connor.

“You alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to seem like a child for this. So he nodded, “I’m fine, lieutenant.”

Hank hesitated, sighed, then walked over to him. A hand clamped on Connor’s shoulder and Connor’s body naturally stiffened.

“Look, kid, it’s alright if you need to step out for a sec. It happens to the best of us.”

The sweet words made something in Connor’s chest jolt. He tried not to think about it and managed to get himself to relax.

“I don’t need to. I’m fine. I’m just adjusting, is all.”

“Yeah,” there was a sigh in Hank’s voice. He pulled his hand away, “You never get used to it. You just learn to handle it.”

“How do _you_ handle it?”

He was quiet for a moment before answering, “I spend time with my son. Remind myself of what I still have.”

Connor didn’t have anyone. Well, he had his brother, but he didn’t want to burden him anymore. Not after Nines had taken care of him their entire childhood. That’s why he smoked. Both cigarettes and weed.

Hank glanced back at the scene, at the bloody mess, then started to usher Connor outside, “Your little light’s still red. Let’s step outside and calm down, alright?”

Connor was the one to lead the way, despite not really wanting to step away from the scene so soon. He needed to push past this, he needed to be a good detective. He wanted to help make the world better and he couldn’t do that if he couldn’t face the homicide scenes he was put on.

Once outside, Hank pulled a pack of cigarettes out. He took one out, then silently offered the pack to Connor. Connor took one. He really needed this about now. They were both quiet as Hank pulled out a lighter, lit his, then lit Connor’s for him.

It was only after he’d taken a long drag and blew the smoke out that Hank spoke again, “So that light on your head. Why’d you get it?”

Connor could tell the lieutenant was just trying to get his mind off the scene for now. It was sweet. Connor hadn’t expected him to be this kind of man, as harsh as that was.

Connor took a drag of the cigarette while he thought about his answer, “The same reason anyone does, I suppose. It’s useful and I was able to get the upgrade when I got it. I had been able to use it during my time in forensics.”

“Huh,” Hank looked at him, now, “Did it hurt?”

Connor nodded, “I was sore for a few weeks, yes. Plus the normal side effects. Headaches, fatigue, dizziness. It happens while the brain adjusts. There’s even still some side effects upon occasion.”

“Jesus, that’s fucked up,” Hank dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his foot, “Why the hell would you do that to yourself?” a pause, then he put his hand up to make sure Connor didn’t answer, “Actually, nevermind. I don’t think I’ll ever understand the logic in that.”

That made the corner of Connor’s lips lift, “It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, whatever. You ready to go back inside?”

He was feeling better, yes. The lieutenant had certainly managed to make the situation a bit more tolerable. So he nodded, “Yes, I think I am.”

This attack was messy. The victim had clearly fought back. The coffee table and a chair was overturned and blood was splattered across the living room. The victim, himself, was propped against the back of a couch, cuts across his arms and hands and three stab wounds in the chest that likely were what killed him. There was no weapon on scene. There _had_ to be some evidence left behind. Something. Anything.

“They’re getting sloppy,” Hank didn’t seem like he was talking to anyone in particular. More just thinking out loud.

Connor didn’t think that’s what it was. Something just didn’t feel right, here. If they were dealing with the same person, then there was no way this could be unplanned, right? The first one had been done so perfectly. Why did their attacker mess up so badly with this one?

He chose to focus on the body. Michael Hunt. He was in the police database for several drug charges. He was recently released on parole.  The deep gashes left on his arms looked as though he was trying to cover his face from the knife and the ones on his hands indicated he’d been trying to attack or even grab the knife from the attacker’s hand. He was average build, if not just a little more muscular than most.

“I don’t believe the attacker would’ve been unprepared,” Connor said as he stood up and glanced around the rest of the scene, “Why would they have taken so many precautions with the last one, but not with this one?”

Hank shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest, “Maybe they were eager with this one.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Connor was focused, looking between the mess of the living room and the body of the victim, “Maybe the attacker had underestimated Michael’s strength.”

“That would be why there’s a mess.”

The fight had clearly started in the living room. The attacker had probably pulled the knife and tried to go for a smooth kill, but didn’t realize how strong their victim was. Which meant they weren’t able to easily over power people. Likely someone small statured- or possibly an average heighted woman. Connor couldn’t say for sure the attacker’s gender quite yet.

He put his focus on the door for a moment. No broken locks, the doorknob and frame were still intact. No forced entry. Again.

“They were invited in,” he pointed out, his lips curling into a frown.

“They going after their friends?”

There was something in Hank’s tone with every question he asked. Something that felt like he already knew what Connor was currently working out. Like he was always a step ahead, but Connor didn’t know how. All he’d done was glance over the scene. Connor was looking into everything with detailed visuals. How could Hank already know everything?

“Not likely, but they do seem to know their victims.”

The drugs. Casey had been holding a bag of Red Ice. Michael had gotten parole after drug charges and Connor was sure they’d find evidence of drug use here if he looked for it specifically. This had been one of his original theories and it seemed proven here.

“I think we’re looking for a drug dealer,” was his ultimate conclusion.

“Makes sense. They get invited in with the promise of selling drugs, then attack. But why would they kill their client base?”

That was something Connor couldn’t figure out.

 

_December 03, 2038 - 7:30:08am_

Connor had gone home after Hank dragged him away from the scene. He needed to write a report and file the evidence properly, but Hank had warned him not to go right to the station or he’d kick his ass, as he’d worded it. He’d told him to go home and rest and maybe eat something. So Connor did just that.

He’d meant to just relax for a while, but he was still exhausted after waking up from a nightmare and using his LED so thoroughly always made his brain tired. So he accidentally fell asleep on his couch. When he woke up, it was already nearly seven. He quickly made a breakfast of plain toast and ate it on the way to the station.

Connor _had_ wanted to get one of those energy drinks from the vending machine in the break room, but the second he stepped in, he froze in his tracks. There was someone new in the place, someone who didn’t belong. Nines was here.

This was the first time Connor had actually _seen_ his brother in a while. He hadn’t even spoken to him in weeks. He wasn’t necessarily avoiding him, but- he was. To get away from his incessant nagging. Seeing him at the station, though. He shouldn’t be here. He wasn’t a cop or a detective. He was a doctor. Had something happened? But then, why would he be in the break room?

“Nines?”

His brother looked at him, now. Connor hadn’t realized he was in conversation with someone until Reed walked by and shoulder checked him. He was talking to Reed? He didn’t really get time to think on that fact before his brother was talking to him.

“I was looking for you,” there was something in his expression that made Connor think he wasn’t telling the full truth.

“Why?”

“You haven’t been answering my calls or my texts. I’m allowed to worry about my brother.”

“You didn’t have to show up at my work just because you were worried.”   
Nines looked past Connor. He seemed to be looking toward the bullpen. Connor resisted the urge to follow his gaze.

“You didn’t give me another choice,” Nines finally replied, blue eyes snapping back to Connor, “You wouldn’t have answered the door if I went to your apartment.”

He had a point. Connor would’ve seen his brother through the peephole and ignored him until he walked away. He suddenly felt bad. He didn’t dislike Nines. He knew his brother just wanted what was best for him, wanted to keep watching over him like he had their entire lives. Connor just got into moods and he knew Nines knew that.

“You’re right, I would have and I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be here, though. I’ll call you when I get off work and we’ll talk then.”

Nines nodded, “Alright. If you don’t call me by eleven tonight, I’m calling you and you better answer.”

“I’ll call you,” Connor assured.

That seemed to be enough for Nines. Connor watched him leave the station, then just went to his desk, forgetting the idea of getting an energy drink.

Turned out, he didn’t need it. Hank arrived at the station only around a half hour later. Connor was in the middle of sorting through the evidence saved to his HUD when the man was setting a large coffee onto Connor's desk. It pulled Connor away from his task. He had to blink several times to get his eyes to focus after closing the sight connection of his LED.

He looked at the coffee, then at Hank.

Hank seemed to understand the silent question, even as he sat at his own desk with his own cup of coffee, “Cole told me to get you one, too. Said you looked tired when you came to get me this morning.”

“I wasn’t-” oh. He wasn’t tired, but he had been something else that would make his eyes red. He abandoned that thought, “Thank you.”

The lieutenant gave him a knowing look. The man did seem like a good detective, so he’d probably immediately knew that Connor had been high.

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” 


	3. Chapter 3

_ December 04, 2038 - 10:00:12am _

It was a Saturday. Meaning, Connor didn’t technically have to work today. Not unless he was called into the station for one reason or another and last night, Nines had talked him into going out and enjoying the free day with him. He guessed it good for him. He’d been cooped up in his house since the incident, hiding away and trying to forget. He needed to stop burying himself in work or weed and get out for once. 

Nines had picked Connor up from his apartment and taken him to this little coffee shop that Connor hadn’t ever even heard of before. It was a nice place, though, even with expensive, but shitty coffee. He thought they must be paying for the atmosphere, then. It was almost the kind of place you’d see described in books. Small with only a few tables and booths, a little reading nook in one corner, the smell of coffee beans, and soft jazz playing through the shop. 

“Are you taking care of yourself?” Nines asked only after they’d gotten settled with their coffees at a table off to the side. 

Connor wanted to avoid these kinds of questions. It was easy over the phone. He could hang up or just not reply to a text. He couldn’t ignore the question in person. He chose to take a drink of the gross coffee instead of speaking. 

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” Nines sighed, “You need to do something other than mope around all day, Connor.” 

“I work,” was Connor’s clever response.  

“And where did that get you in the past?” 

“That’s not-” 

“It got you here. This mess you’ve become.” 

That was a little harsh. Connor dropped his eyes. He knew Nines never liked the fact that he’d gone into police work. He always said something bad was going to happen and he was right, but that didn’t mean Connor wanted to leave the line of work. He transferred to try and start anew, in a sense. He at least wouldn’t work alone so much and he’d gotten some extra training before the transfer. 

“Sorry,” Nines seemed to realize how mean he’d sounded, “I just worry. Especially after what happened. You haven’t been eating and you hardly leave the house anymore.” 

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.” 

Nines seemed skeptical, but he didn’t push it any further. They both went silent and they stayed that way for a good half hour. Until Connor got to watch his brother’s LED turn white. He checked the message on his hand, then blinked out of it and put his focus back on Connor. 

“I need to go. Promise me you’ll start at least trying to get out of this patch you’re in.”

“I’ll try.” 

It was an empty promise, though. Connor knew it was going to take him a lot longer than the few months it had been to get over what happened. Nines knew that, too. He had to. 

 

Connor had waited another ten minutes before leaving the cafe. By the time he walked out the door, it had started snowing. He was dressed warm, sure, but not warm enough for the fact that he’d elected not to get a cab. He would get to his apartment by foot. A little bit of cold wouldn’t hurt him. 

By now, though, twenty minutes and indirectly avoiding the direction of his apartment later, it was starting to sting. He could feel it on his nose, his ears, and his cheeks. His jaw had started shaking a few minutes ago and his arms were crossed over his chest in a feeble attempt to warm himself. It was nice, though. Walking around in the snow with no true destination in mind. 

Connor didn’t even know where he was, not really, until he heard someone calling out his name. It was faint, his own brain was being too loud to really hear properly right now. It still stopped him and lifted his head to try to find the source. They called out again and Connor realized the voice was behind him and it was familiar. 

When Connor turned, he saw the lieutenant with Cole and Sumo walking over. They were all bundled up in warm clothes, much warmer than what Connor was wearing. Even Sumo was putting up with wearing a scarf. It was only now that he realized he was somewhere near Hank’s neighborhood. Around a street away, actually. 

“Fuck, Connor, you look like you’re about to freeze to death,” Hank seemed genuinely concerned about him, “What’re you doin’ out here?” 

“Walking,” his tone was a little defensive. He was always like this after talking to his brother, feeling awfully vulnerable. “You’re doing the same, right?”  

“Well, yeah, but we’re a bit better dressed for the weather than you are.” 

“Sumo loves the snow. We took him to play at the dog park,” Cole spoke up, “We’re heading home, now. You wanna come drink some hot coco with us?” 

Connor was taken aback by the offer. It was sweet and Connor enjoyed the fact that Cole liked him enough to invite him to their home, but he wasn’t about to accept the invitation without knowing if Hank was okay with it. 

“I’m not sure if I-” 

“Oh, C’mon,” Hank cut him off, “It’s freezing as shit out here. At least come warm up for a little bit.” 

That was more than enough confirmation, so Connor nodded, “Okay.” 

 

_ December 04, 2038 - 11:31:04am _

Connor was currently curled up on one end of the sofa in Hank’s living room, his legs pulled up to his chest, a blanket around his shoulders and a cup of coco in his hands. He was warm, comfortable and felt pampered, but it felt right to be sitting here. This house was very homely. He’d never felt this immediately okay at someone’s house. 

Cole had actually set him up like this. The kid had insisted that Connor warm up with one of their extra blankets and even pretty much forced him to sit on the couch. Then had given him to the coco he was drinking. He was a really sweet kid. Connor was actually happy that he’d so easily accepted him, despite not really knowing him. 

“So what were you doin’ out in the cold like that?” Hank finally asked, sitting on the other end of the couch. Cole was happily sitting on the floor in front of the TV, watching some cartoon movie that Connor didn’t recognize. 

“I had been visiting my brother.” 

The lieutenant made a soft humming noise, “Yeah, I saw him at the station yesterday. You two look a lot alike.” 

“Yes, twins typically do.” 

Connor got to watch Hank’s face break into a smile and it was a sight that made Connor smile in return.

“You don’t gotta be a smartass about it,” he even had a light laugh in his voice. It made Connor’s stomach float. 

There was a long bout of silence that followed those words. One where Connor tried to make sense of these feelings he’d been getting around Hank. He wasn’t dumb, he’d had crushes before, but this felt a bit different than a high school crush and it felt far too soon for him to be getting one on the lieutenant. Not to mention, very unprofessional. It wasn’t like him at all and it honestly kind of scared him. 

So his mind’s natural reaction to avoiding a scary topic was to change subjects. This time, it turned to the case and he realized something odd that he hadn’t considered until just now, even if he’d had fleeting thoughts on work. 

“Lieutenant?” he wanted to voice this finding, question it with someone else’s input to the situation. 

Hank had been watching the movie with Cole, Connor realized. Connor had been so caught up in his own mind that he’d nearly forgotten just  _ where  _ he was. 

He got a hum for a reply, so he continued, “There were no-” there was a kid in the room and Connor wasn’t sure what he was allowed to say, so he just dropped his voice and leaned closer to Hank, “There were no murders last night.”

“Yeah? And?” the lieutenant wasn’t looking away from the screen. 

“The two murders were consecutive, both at around the same time in the early morning, so why wasn’t there one last night?” 

“I dunno, maybe they decided to take the weekend off.”

That was an amusing idea, a killer working third shift murders, but obviously not one to take seriously. It did, though, get Connor thinking. Maybe their attacker had a weekend job that required them to leave the city. Or maybe a job that allowed them to stay in Detroit during the week, but have to leave over the weekends. 

“Hey,” Hank’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “Don’t stress about it too much, okay? There’s nothin’ we can do right now. No new leads or evidence, or murders. We just have to wait.” 

Waiting was something Connor wasn’t good at. He didn’t like how long they had to wait for the required lab results or how long they had to wait to gain access to the victims’ records. It was annoying. They were trying to solve murders. Serial murders, at that. They were on a time crunch. 

The movie ended. Connor wasn’t sure how long they’d been sitting here or how long he hadn’t been paying attention, but he knew it ended because Cole had gotten up from his spot to put his empty cup in the kitchen and, while in there, loudly complained he was hungry. It was almost enough to make Connor smile. The kid was cute. 

“Yeah, it’s about lunch time,” Hank groaned from beside him, politely taking Connor’s only half empty cup from his hands, “You wanna eat with us?” 

Connor wasn’t good in social situations like this. He didn’t like to eat, but he felt it would be rude to deny the invitation. So he sat there for a moment, just staring up at the lieutenant like a deer in headlights. 

Until the man said, “It’s alright if you don’t. You don’t gotta,” with a laugh his voice, probably at Connor’s expression. 

So Connor replied with a quiet, “I’m sorry. I should be leaving.” 

“Yeah, alright. You want a ride?” 

“No, thank you.” 

“At least call a taxi this time.” 

Connor couldn’t exactly argue against that. He’d been really cold and his apartment was a long walk away from here. So he used his LED to call a cab, said goodbye to both Hank and Cole, then went outside to wait. When the cab arrived, he got in and went back to his apartment for the remainder of the day.

 

_ December 06, 2038 - 3:35:05am. _

There was another call on a murder. Early on a monday morning, leaving Connor to believe that the  _ did _ attacker traveled for work either during the week or on the weekends. That was something they’d need to figure out. 

He arrived at the scene only fifteen minutes after it was called in. The location was an empty, broken, old house. The perfect place for squatters and it seemed that this one was taken up by more than just one drug addict. So why was only one person dead? 

Upon initially looking over the scene, there were several witnesses all put off to the side with cops and the body lay in the middle of the front yard. An open location. Risky. Maybe their attacker was getting desperate? 

“What do you make of it?” 

Hank’s voice suddenly next to him made Connor jump lightly and he snapped his eyes over to the man, as if he needed to be sure it was him. He was surprised Hank was even here.

“Each kill is more sloppy than the last,” he replied, “This one is in a risky location.” 

“Done the same way?” 

“Based on the initial report, yes.” 

Connor had gotten it from one of the officers when he’d arrived on scene. A knife wound, this time pierced the heart. It was quick, clean, and efficient. It wasn’t the same as the first two, but then, none of the ways were the same. 

“It seems as though we’re dealing with multiple people,” Connor pointed out, “Each kill is different in how it’s done.” 

“So you think it’s just a big group of people all agreeing to someone they have a vendetta against in the same way? What happened to the whole drug dealer thing you had goin’?” 

That was still a possibility. Maybe a group of drug dealers? That didn’t make much sense, though. Perhaps they were gaining the trust of these people through some other means. Drug dealer just fit the best. 

“Maybe they’re just changing it up every time to throw us off,” Hank suggested. 

That was another possibility, but Connor didn’t think someone would be smart enough to pull that off so well. Connor just wished some sort of evidence had been left behind, but all they had were a bunch of really high witnesses. He wasn’t sure how much help they’d be, but he’d try. 

“I’m going to question the witnesses,” he didn’t give Hank the time to respond before he started toward the group. 

There were only about five and they all seemed a bit shaken up and ansty. Connor looked between all of them, judging their expressions. He decided to first question a man that looked particularly uncomfortable. Scared, even. He probably saw something. 

Connor pulled the man aside, taking him back into the house. It was the best place to make sure the others couldn’t hear his responses to the questions. He wouldn’t want them lying just because this guy said something. He needed full honest reports, or as honest as he could get them, anyway. 

A once over of the guy with his LED told Connor the man’s name was Jason Norman. Connor could see traces of a drug called Triptocain on his nose. He chose to ignore that in favor of getting answers to his questions. 

“Why was the victim outside?” 

“Her name was Trish.” 

“Okay,” Connor had already struck a nerve. He needed to be softer with this, “Why was Trish outside?” 

“She-” a long pause, then he spoke again, “Am I allowed to say anything without a lawyer?” 

“It’s just us, Jason, I assure you. I won’t hold you accountable.” 

“How’d you-?” Jason’s eyes caught Connor’s LED and he seemed to tense up more, like he hadn’t noticed it until now. He even took a few steps away from Connor, “You’ve got one of those  _ things _ .” 

“A NIC. Yes, I have one. Is something wrong with them?” 

Jason’s arm slipped behind him, like he was reaching for something in his back pocket. Connor didn’t have time to scan for what before a gun had been pulled on him and was pointed at his face. Shit. How did no one see that Jason had a gun? 

“What if you’re one of ‘em?” His voice was shaky, so was his grip on the gun. There was a way out of this without getting shot. 

“One of who, Jason?”

“Of  _ them _ ! The ones that killed her!” 

So there were multiples and they had LEDs. That helped, at least to a degree, “Who are they? Do you know their names?” 

Jason shook his head. He was unstable and stressed, “No, I- I don’t know.” 

“It’s okay, Jason. That’s okay. Just put down the gun and we’ll find them, okay?” 

“I can’t  _ trust  _ you!” 

“Yes, you can.” 

It didn’t seem to be enough though. Jason was freaked out, having some sort of break down. It was apparent he cared a lot about the victim. He was obviously debating rather or not he wanted to trust Connor and, in the end, he decided he didn’t. That much was apparent when the gun went off and Connor felt a sharp pain in his stomach. 

He was standing, then he wasn’t, but he couldn’t feel the pain of having fallen. All he felt was the pain of where the bullet pierced him. He couldn’t think, every part of his brain being fuzzy and clouded and all he could do was clutch at his stomach. 

It all went so fast. Everything sounded too far away, but he could heard some banging, then a pair of hands were closing over his own, forcing him to put pressure over the wound. The action hurt, making him weakly cry out. When he looked up, Hank was kneeling beside him. He looked scared.

“Lieutenant,” he choked out, the words making him cough. He could taste copper on his tongue, “It hurts.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Hank’s voice was too close and still too far away. It went in and out with every word, “But you’ll be okay. An ambulance is on its way.” 

Connor tried to repeat those words to himself, but he couldn’t get himself to think properly. It didn’t feel like it, anyway. He could feel the blood pouring from the wound under his hands. Everything was fuzzy and his sight was getting dark. He was trying to stay awake as best he could, but the pain and blood loss got the better of him and lost consciousness. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry this chapter took so long to get out, but thank you so much for your patience!   
> And thank you for your support thus far!
> 
> A warning, though, my weekly updates might not be so weekly and I'm sorry about that!! 
> 
> I also didn't have an editor for this chapter, so there will probably be mistakes and for that, I apologize deeply.

Connor’s senses started to come back to him slowly. He couldn’t yet open his eyes or even move, he was still so tired, but he could hear. He could hear and feel the beeping of a machine next to him, he could feel a blood pressure cuff on his arm and the sheets pressing lightly against him. His mind was still so fuzzy. 

He could make out the sounds of people’s voices. They were both deep and too far away for him to understand any words, but he could hear that they were arguing. It was hardly recognizable in the state he was in, but he realized the ruff grumble of one of the voices was Hank. He was still here? Connor didn’t know why he would’ve stayed, but Hank had been the last person he saw before he passed out and now, he desperately wanted to call out to him, get his attention somehow, but he wasn’t able to. He wasn’t able to move or speak and he could feel himself drifting off again. He could only hope Hank would be there when he came to. 

 

When Connor woke up again, he was still very drowsy, but managed to get his eyes open this time. He had to blink to get them to adjust to the bright white lights of the room he was in. A hospital, obviously. That’s where people went after they got shot. He could remember that much.

He was aware of all the same things from earlier. Beeping of a machine, blood pressure cuff, and even a heart monitor wrapped around his finger, but there was something new- something he hadn’t felt earlier. A new pressure. It made the bed dip next to him and it seemed to feel like a hand on his thigh. Or at least, something similar. Those hadn’t been there earlier. 

As he slowly got more and more aware, he realized he could hear a light snoring coming from next to him and he managed to turn his head enough to see who the source was. He’d expected to see Nines, maybe, passed out from worrying too hard, but- it was Hank. Hank was asleep against the bed next to him, one hand on his thigh while the other was curled under his head. He looked exhausted, even when asleep. 

That little crush of Connor’s came to head, now. He could feel it deep in his chest, a warmth that he’d never felt for someone before. It still felt too quick, they’d only known each other for four days. Was it possible to like someone so quickly? Apparently so, because Connor definitely liked the lieutenant. 

He managed to move a hand despite how achy all his limbs felt and he put that hand right on top of the one over his thigh. He wasn’t strong enough to really grip, but just resting his own on Hank’s was enough for him, right now. He was comfortable and happy. Enough so that he fell asleep again. 

 

This time, Connor was stirred awake from a nurse. She hadn’t done it on purpose, she’d just been changing out his IV bag and shifting his blankets for him, but it had been enough to wake him. When she noticed, she initially looked startled, but once that wore off, she smile kindly at him. Connor couldn’t help but think that she loved her job. 

“Hey there,” her voice was soft, “How you feeling?” 

Connor still wasn’t with the world completely. His thoughts were fleeting and ever changing as he tried to focus on any one thing and couldn’t. He realized his hand was cold. The warmth of another was no longer under it. He lifted it, now, and put his eyes on it, flexing the fingers as if grasping could help bring Hank’s hand back. 

“Hank,” he was barely able to speak. His throat was so dry it hurt and it sounded like he’d just gargled a cup of rocks, then swallowed them, “Where’s- where’s Hank?” 

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I think he’ll be back in a minute. I’ll get you some water,” and with that, she left the room. 

Connor was alone. There had been no one else in the room other than the nurse and he was worried Hank wasn’t going to come back soon, so he’d be alone for a while. That idea was scary. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted someone here with him. He could feel his chest tightening and he had to force himself to breathe deeply, trying to fight off the panic attack before it fully took hold, but he was alone and in pain and had no way to cope and he could feel those pin pricks behind his eyes. 

“Connor?” 

That voice- his eyes snapped over. Hank was standing at the door of the room, a coffee in his hand. He looked concerned.

“Hank,” Connor’s voiced broke around the one word making him sound pathetic. 

Connor felt like he was able to watch Hank’s heart break just from the expression on his face and it only took the man two strides to get by the bed. He set his coffee down on a little movable tray and sunk onto the bed next to Connor. Connor immediately moved both his hands to take one of Hank’s. His judgement was clouded by what he could only assume was pain medicine, he wasn’t thinking of the connotations his actions could have. All he knew was that he was scared, right now. 

“I was- you were-” 

“Hey, shh,” Hank hushed him, watching his face closely, “You’re alright. Just breathe.” 

Connor had been trying to do that before, but now Hank was in here. Hank had been there when he was shot and he was here, now, too. It was hard to follow what he was being told, but he managed to drag in shaky breaths and let them out slowly. 

“I was scared,” he whispered after a moment of this, the honest words just falling from his mouth. 

“I know, I’ve been there before. It’s scary.” 

Connor didn’t have the energy to say anything more. Knowing that Hank actually understood the position he was in helped a lot, though. 

  
  
  


_ December 07, 2038 - 5:54:02pm _

When Connor finally got up the courage to check the time and date, to know how long he’d been out, it had already been around two hours after he woke up. Hank settled into a chair next to the bed so the nurses and doctors had the room to work on him. All they’d really done, though, was check up on the wound and on how he felt, now. He was still in pain, but it wasn’t unbearable, so they didn’t up his medication. 

Him and Hank had been silent for a while. Connor was appreciating his company while trying to shove away this heavy feeling resting in the room. 

Connor was the one to break the silence, “Have they interrogated him, yet?” 

He’d been in the hospital for over a day, but he knew they had to have arrested the guy who shot him and sometimes it took a while to get around to an interrogation, especially if the lead investigators were out of commission for a bit. 

“No,” Hank replied, “I’m supposed to do it, but I haven’t left the hospital since you got here.” 

He hadn’t left? Connor looked at him, brows drawn together, “You haven’t gone home?” 

The lieutenant shook his head, but didn’t say anything. 

“What about Cole?” 

He was genuinely worried about the kid. Hank had been at the scene the night he was shot, so Cole hadn’t seen his father since around three in the morning yesterday. Who was watching him? 

“He’s fine,” the question had made a smile curl up on Hank’s lips, something soft to show how much it meant to him that Connor worried, “He’s been with Fowler’s wife all day and is having a blast.” 

Okay, good. Cole was okay, so Connor could move on, “I want to be there for the interrogation.” 

That smile on Hank’s face? It fell, now, “What?” 

“I want to be there for the interrogation.” 

“You can’t be serious, Connor.”

“I’m very serious.” 

“No. I’m not- You can’t- Connor, you were fucking shot. Why the fuck do you want to go the interrogation?” 

“I want to know what he says.” 

“I can tell you what he says.” 

“I want to hear it, myself. I’m still apart of this investigation, lieutenant.” 

A frustrated silence, then, “Fine. Whatever. If you hurt yourself more, don’t come crying to me.” 

 

_ December 08, 2038 - 12:38:45pm _

Connor hadn’t really been released from the hospital, so much as he told the staff he was leaving and to get his discharge papers. They reluctantly did so and gave him some prescriptions to take home. He left the hospital with Hank. Hank complained the entire time they were on the way to the station, but he took Connor there anyway. 

He was set up in a chair in the observation room. He wasn’t the only one in the room, no. Detective Reed was in there with him, but for once, the man was quiet. Only watching, like he actually cared about the outcome of this interrogation. 

Hank dragged Jason into the room and locked his cuffs to the table before he went around and sat in the chair across from the guy. Jason looked uncomfortable, scared, even. He knew he’d done something horribly wrong and was showing regret. 

“What’s going on, Jason,” Hank prompted, “Why’d you feel the need to shoot my partner?” 

Jason took a long time to answer and when he did, his voice was quiet, “I thought- I thought he was one of them.” 

“One of who?” 

“The- the people who killed Trish.” 

“So you saw them?” 

Jason gave a shaky nod, glancing at the window, then looking back at Hank, “Yeah. They acted like they were gonna sell her drugs, then they killed her.” 

“There was more than one at the time of the murder?” 

“Three of ‘em, yeah. I’ve seen them before. They’re from a big up and comin’ drug ring, sell ice for cheap.” 

“What do they look like?” 

Jason shrugged, “I don’t know. They always cover their faces, but they- they’re a buncha light up bitches like your partner. Go by the name of Jericho.” 

“Why are they killing clients?” 

“From what they were sayin’ before they- killed Trish, they were going after unloyal clients as a warning. Some new drug dealers, more friendly fuckers, have been getting traction and Jericho’s pissed. So they’re killing the clients they found out went to the new guys.” 

A drug war. It was a drug war. These murders, the ones they’ve been dealing with for days, was because of a drug war. But then- why were the kills specifically during weekdays? Jason did say they covered their face. So maybe those involved in Jericho worked respectable jobs and took weekends off. 

Hank was done with the interrogation, so he left the room. Connor met him out in the hall, leaving Gavin alone in the room before he could finally say something annoying. 

“We’re looking to take down a drug ring, then,” he said as he stepped out of the observation room. 

“No,  _ we’re _ not. You’re gonna go home and rest.” 

“I assure you, my injury doesn’t impair my ability to work, lieutenant.” 

“It impairs your ability to go to any locations, though. At least for a day or so. Just go home and relax.” 

Connor didn’t want to. He wanted to make sure he could stop any further killings, wanting to solve this now. But Hank was right. At least for a few days, he wouldn’t be able to go chasing anyone. Plus, Nines would actually kill him if he tried. So he agreed with a sigh. 

“Alright. Can you drive me home?” 

“I’m not a chauffeur. Can’t you get a taxi?” 

“You’re going to be heading home, too, correct? My apartment is on the way. It’s easier to have you drive me.” 

That seemed to amuse Hank. He got this little shine in his eye and he nodded, “Yeah, alright, whatever, you brat.” 

The ride to his apartment was nice. Hank had this soft jazz playing over the radio and it was turned down to a nice volume. That air from the hospital was back, but neither of them addressed it. They just sat in the car together, enjoying each other’s presence for as long as they were allowed. 

“Can I ask you a question, lieutenant?” something that had been in the back of his mind since he was in the hospital. 

“Sure, go for it.” 

“Why didn’t you leave the hospital? When I was hurt. You have a son to take care of and more important things in your life than watching over me in a place that is perfectly capable of saving my life, so why stay?” 

“Because I was worried,” was Hank’s unhesitant response. He got flustered from it and continued, “I mean, of course I was worried. You’re my partner.” 

Connor felt like he knew better than to believe that it was just because they were partners. He kept his eyes on Hank for a moment, hesitant to say what he wanted to.

“You were asleep with your head on the hospital bed,” he spoke softly, the tone showing his fear on how Hank would react, “I’d woken up for a moment. You were there, asleep next to me and your hand was-” his eyes fell to his leg, to the spot Hank’s hand had been, then they flicked to that hand that had been on him, the one he’d held. He wanted to hold it again, his fingers giving a twitch, “It felt nice. Having you that close.” 

The car stopped and Connor realized they were outside his apartment. This conversation was going to end and maybe that was for the best because Connor realized just how embarrassing his words had been. He shouldn’t have said anything. Before Hank could respond to the words, he went for the handle of the door. But he wasn’t able to get out. Hank had grabbed his wrist to stop him. Connor looked at him, a nervousness twisting his stomach. 

He hardly had time to process the fact that Hank was leaning over the center console and he  _ definitely  _ didn’t have time to process the motion of Hank getting closer before a pair of lips were pressed against his own. He tense from the shock of it and his brain seemed to short circuit, unable to create any thoughts. Hank was kissing him.  _ Hank was kissing him _ . 

It lasted for far too short. Hank pulled back, clearly worried he’d crossed some boundary since Connor hadn’t pressed in. 

“Shit, sorry, I-” 

Connor only barely managed to gather some thought, enough that he leaned across to clumsily crash his lips into Hank’s, cutting the man off. 


	5. Chapter 5

Hank’s hands were large as they pressed against hips. Hank could manhandle him easily, but every touch and push in the right direction was gentle. The man was clearly afraid he’d hurt Connor right now and, even if this probably would end up hurting him, Connor didn’t care. His entire being sang for this. 

Connor’s back touched a wall and then arched to press his body as much against Hank’s as he could get it to. Lips found his neck and the scratch of a beard against the skin there made a shudder run down his spine, one that made his moan shaky as he breathed it out. He buried his fingers in the long strands of Hank’s hair, gripping to keep the man close. 

Connor could feel teeth scrape against the skin on his neck and it nearly made his knees buckle. His jaw fell open in a gasp of Hank’s name and his hips rocked forward. It was overwhelming, the way his felt physically and the way his heart pounded with the emotion he felt toward this man. 

Hank’s hands found their way up his shirt and it was obvious when his fingers hit the fabric of the gauze that wrapped around his entire abdomen because those hands froze stiff, then rested against his hips and he pulled back to properly look at Connor. He looked worried, but Connor could hardly focus on that passed how pretty Hank’s face looked when it was flushed like that. 

“I don’t think we should be doin’ this. Not until you’re healed.” 

Connor didn’t want this to stop. He was freshly healing from a bullet wound, sure, but he wanted this with his entirety. Even ripping his stitches open couldn’t stop him from desperately needing this.

“No, please,” he breathed, “You can’t stop.” 

“I don’t wanna be responsible for you having to go back to the hospital today,” Hank was pulling further away from him as he spoke, the only thing keeping him somewhat close being Connor’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, clinging to him. 

Connor could feel a whine crawling up his throat, but he managed to suppress it, “I  _ need  _ you, Hank.”

He got to watch the way his words affected Hank. The man’s pupils dilated and he watched him swallow hard. There was hesitation on his face. Then he sighed and leaned in to kiss him again. Connor pressed into it like his life depended on it. 

Hank pulled back and his fingers were at the button on Connor’s pants and his lips were at Connor’s ear, “I’ll take care of you. You don’t need to strain yourself.” 

Connor felt his entire body tremble from the low words. Anticipation clawed his gut. Hank was pushing his pants down his hips and Connor couldn’t even think properly to offer any assistance. He watched Hank sink to the floor in front of him and his breath caught in his throat. It was such an unbelievably gorgeous sight. 

Now, Connor liked to think he was decently sized, maybe even a little more endowed than some other people. But Hank? Hank took his entire cock into his mouth like a fucking champ and Connor choked on his moan. 

Hank set a pace and Connor was left gasping and making quiet little moans, his hands desperately trying to find something to do. They brushed Hank’s hair behind his ears, traced his cheeks and settled on burying into the coarse hairs of Hank’s beard. They attempted to massage through the hair, but only gripped and his fingernails scratched lightly at Hank’s jaw.

Connor alternated between pressing his head back against the wall and watching Hank as he bobbed on his dick. That quickly changed when Connor felt Hank groaning around him and his eyes fell down to see one of Hank’s arms moving in such an obvious fashion. Hank was jacking off as he was working Connor over and Connor couldn’t look away from him, now. Not with the pretty way Hank’s brow was twisted from the pleasure he was giving himself. 

When Connor came, it was quicker than he’d ever came before and Hank- bless him -was skillful in the way he swallowed around him to make sure he caught every last drop. He sucked Connor dry until he was so over sensitive that Connor was tugging and gripping at the back of his shirt to pull him off, letting out whiney noises. Hank pulled off with a lewd pop and his head dropped forward, panting. Before Connor could recover enough to offer any help, he got to watch Hank cum, too. He shuddered through it, shaky gasps being the only noises he made and it was so incredibly beautiful. 

Connor didn’t even let him finish riding it out before he was dropping to his knees, taking Hank’s cheeks in his hand, and kissing him harshly and sloppily. A blowjob was the last thing he’d expected to get from a guy like Hank, but he wasn’t about to complain about it. It had felt so, so good. Far better than anything he may or may not have imagined at night since the moment they met. 

He could taste himself in Hank’s mouth. He liked it in that it felt like a personal sort of marking Hank as his. That wasn’t weird, right? He pulled back and they caught eyes again. Hank, the bastard, had the gull to smirk. 

“Liked that, did ya?” 

Connor sat back on his legs, giving Hank a less than displeased look at the obvious teasing. Of course he liked it. It had been incredible.  _ Hank  _ had been incredible. 

 

_ December 08, 2038 - 4:13:34pm  _

 

Hank had cleaned himself up in Connor’s bathroom, then had to leave, but he didn’t part without a goodbye peck on the lips. It felt domestic and made Connor’s chest warm. He wanted to believe that they might be something. 

He was laid up in his bed, finally resting after leaving the hospital. Nines had called about a total of twenty times since one o’clock and had left a number of messages. He was reading through those, now. Most of them demanded that he call him while others were cursing at him. He prepared himself to be yelled at, then called his brother. 

“Connor,” Nines answered on the first ring and, as expected, sounded angry, “What the  _ hell  _ were you thinking, checking yourself out of the hospital? You were  _ shot _ !” 

“I’m fine, Nines. I’m not dead.” 

“You could have been. If you’d hurt yourself more.” 

“I didn’t, though and Hank was with me, so I’m fine.” 

Oddly enough, that seemed to be what shut Nines up. It was weird. Usually, Nines would continue to scold him, espcially if someone else had allowed him to do the stupid thing he’d done. He’d start going off about them. But he didn’t. He just went quiet and it was silent between them for a long time before Connor brought up something that had been stuck in the back of his mind for a while. It bothered him. 

“Did you visit me?” Connor didn’t remember seeing Nines at all. Hank had been there all the time he’d woken up, but never Nines. His brother was always watching over him. 

“Yes. But I couldn’t stay.” 

“Why not?” 

“I have my reasons. Don’t be nosy, Connor,” then Nines changed the subject, “Why’d you leave the hospital, anyway?” 

“I needed to see the interrogation of the man who shot me.” 

“You need to learn to let go of things. Like what happened before.” 

“Don’t bring that up, now, Nines. I needed to be there for the case.” 

“Anything else happen besides interrogating some drug addict?” 

A pause, then, “We kissed,” Connor was conveniently leaving out the rest of the evening. He wasn’t going to tell his brother about that.

“You and the guy who shot you?” 

“ _ No _ . The Lieutenant and I.” 

A pause.

“That’s unprofessional.” 

“Is that  _ really  _ all you have to say about that?” 

“Well, no. It’s just the first thing in my mind.” 

“What do I do?” 

“About what?” 

“About the  _ kiss _ !” 

“Oh. I don’t know, nothing? You can’t exactly date your partner.” 

That was a good point, Connor couldn’t deny it.  A relationship in the workplace wasn’t usually welcomed. He just didn’t want to hear that. He liked Hank. 

 

_ December 09, 2038 - 8:43:09am _

 

Connor arrived at the station against his own better judgment. He’d been late taking the medicine he was sent home with and was in an immense amount of pain because of that. It was fine, though. He needed to work on this case. 

He only managed to get a few minutes of work in when Hank showed up. He stopped the second he saw Connor. 

“Connor? You look like shit. Why are you here?” 

“I need to work on this case.” 

“You  _ need  _ to be at home, resting, you dumbass. You’re gonna hurt yourself.” 

“I’m fine, Lieutenant. The more I work, the quicker we can stop the killings.” 

“Go home or I’ll drag you there, myself.” 

“ _ That _ would hurt me.” 

“I don’t care.” 

Connor looked at him, now, no expression on his face, “Funny. You seemed very worried about if you were going to hurt me last nigh-” 

“Connor!” Hank hissed out angrily before sighing, “You gotta take care of yourself or you’re gonna end up killin’ yourself. I don’t even know how you’re walking around like this, but you’re going to bust the stitches.” 

“I’ll be fine, Lieutenant. I won’t move around much. I’ll mostly stay at my desk.” 

“You’re fucking stubborn, you know that?” but as Hank said this, he was sitting at his own desk across from Connor’s. Connor had won this argument. 

Connor could only smile at him, “Yes. I’m aware.” 

 

_ December 09, 2038 - 12:30:36am _

 

Around fifteen minutes before Hank would’ve wanted to go to lunch, a call came in. Another murder. There hadn’t been one since Monday. They arrived on scene, a shotty old motel,  forty-five minutes after the body had been found. Hank had begrudgingly let him come along. There was actually more than one body here, this time. A married couple who apparently bought their drugs together. 

The victims were Christine Victoria, aged thirty-two and her husband Tyler Victoria, aged thirty-six. They were found by a maid who immediately called the cops. No one else was in the room, that any of the staff can remember. 

But the first thing Connor noticed was that something was off about that idea. The couple had specifically gotten a two bed room, even though the motel had the option of a one bed and both beds looked like they’d been slept on the night before. They’d had someone with them. 

Connor gave himself the task of looking around for any evidence left behind by the third person. Tyler was against a wall, shot five times while Christina got the worst of it. She’d been shot a total of fifteen times. Her body was lying a few feet in front of a small closet. The door was propped open just enough for a small body to get in or out of. It didn’t look like anyone had checked inside it, yet. 

He put on a pair of gloves and went over, pushing the door open the rest of the way. Inside was mostly empty save for a backpack shoved into one corner of the closet. It only took one glance at it to know who it belonged to. 

“Lieutenant,”  he called out and Hank came over in an instant. 

“Find something?” 

Connor grabbed the bag and pulled it out for better inspection. He even unzipped it, now, and inside were pages of colored on papers and some clothes, “This is a child’s backpack. They had a child with them.” 

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE thanks to my husband and a huge help with this story @CannerandHonk, he edited chapters 1-3 for me!   
> He's a very talented writer, so go check him out
> 
> I'll be posting every week on Thursdays(probably)


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